


Maces and Frostbite

by weekend_conspiracy_theorist



Series: Flarrow Femslash Week 2015 [4]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/F, they're partners in crime but also in justice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 22:49:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5433722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weekend_conspiracy_theorist/pseuds/weekend_conspiracy_theorist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawgirl and Killer Frost strike fear into the hearts of men, and they rescue little girls. It's a compromise.</p><p>(Written for Flarrow Femslash Week: Day Two.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maces and Frostbite

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MissSugarPlum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissSugarPlum/gifts).



They creep along through the darkness, their hands tightly clasped around flashlights they don’t dare to turn on and batons that seem flimsy and useless compared to what they’re facing.

“Is she gone?” one of the men whispers, lips brushing uncomfortably close to the other’s ear. (Not that the man complains—silence is more important than personal space.)

“I think she is,” the other whispers back. He barely dares open his mouth, practically breathes the words. “It’s not cold in here, anymore…”

The lights turn on abruptly—the men press back to back, scanning the hallway with eyes held wide with fear. They see nothing, but a voice echoes down the hallway. “That’s because she is gone. Unfortunately for you, she has a partner.” There’s a whisper of sound, like feathers slipping through the air.

The two men- guards, really, of a facility that’s currently being raided by Killer Frost and this unnamed, as yet unseen partner- collectively turn and run. (They don’t get far before they’re knocked out in an explosion of feathers, leather, and nth metal.)

***

Hawkgirl drops the two men at Killer Frost’s feet and then comes to a gentler, silent landing on her own. “I think that’s the last of them.”

Frost checks her watch, raises an eyebrow. “Ten minutes for an entire base? We’re on a roll tonight.” She kneels, manhandling the men so she can press her lips to each of their cheeks in turn- her signature, a black stain of frostbite like a lipstick mark- and then rises to her feet once more.

The hawk shrugs, rolls her shoulders. (The motion makes her wings readjust, feathers rustling in a cascade. She sheds one—Frost will pick it up before they leave. No need to give anyone too many clues as to who her new accomplice is.) “They should really up their security,” she says, neutral and unapologetic.

“Ooh, yeah,” Frost snickers. “We’ve just got their best interests at heart, you know? It’s a lesson in how to deal with metahuman security breaches.” She strolls over to the vault they came here for—there’s no way to turn off its alarms, not without far more tech skill than either of them have, but if there’s no one left to answer the alarm then what does it even matter?

Frost sets her hands against the titanium, breathes in, and then breathes out—the ice stretches from her fingertips, from the point being touched by her icy breath, crackling and blue-ish white and beautiful(ly deadly). She steps back, and Hawkgirl gives her a moment to admire the sparkling, frosty surface before she swings her mace into it, shattering it to pieces with one blow.

The alarm blares. The women ignore it, stroll casually across the brittle metal and into the vault.

Four sets of frightened eyes stare at them out of the faces of four girls of varying age—and obviousness of mutation. The smallest, probably six or seven, is covered in small, shimmering green scales (and her tongue, when she yawns, is slim and pink and forked), the middle two (twins, probably around the age of twelve) seem perfectly average but for their vividly purple hair, and the oldest has a tail, slim and prehensile and whipping about nervously as she rises to her feet, moves in front of the younger children. She raises her fists, bares her teeth, and the younger girls crowd in close together, try to hide behind her slim form.

Kendra hangs her mace back at her waist, raises her hands in an obvious gesture of “I mean you no harm,” and Caitlin takes a deep breath, carefully reigns in her powers until the temperature of the room has risen again from the three degree dip it took upon her first entrance. She smiles, kneels down to the height of the smallest.

“We’re here to bust you out,” she explains.

One of the twins leans out from behind the eldest, studying Caitlin with narrowed eyes. “Can we stop for ice cream on the way?” she finally asks.

***

Kendra slides her arms around Caitlin from behind- she’s wearing long sleeves in addition to the thick fabric of Cait’s sweater, but she can still feel the coldness creeping through- and drops her chin to her girlfriend’s shoulder. “Isn’t this a nice compromise?” she asks softly. “Illegal activities with goodness at their heart, rather than wholesale violence or pure superheroing.”

Cait shrugs, turning within Kendra’s arms so she can loop her own around Kendra’s neck (careful to pull the sleeves of her sweater up over her hands to eclipse the risk of touching bare skin to bare skin). “I guess it feels nice, or whatever.” She prods Kendra with one sweater-fist, raises an eyebrow. “And I know you had fun striking fear into the hearts of men.”

“Government goons holding little girls for experimentation?” Kendra asks, and there’s a trace of steel, of carefully controlled violence in her tone. “I would have helped even if I’d initially showed up to stop you.”

Cait sighs and flutters her eyelashes, drops her cheek to Kendra’s chest as she hugs the other woman more tightly. “Darling, you say the nicest things.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm taking prompts for all of Flarrow Femslash Week! Hit me up at either lisasneeze, my flash sideblog, or my main blog, weekend-conspiracy-theorist


End file.
